


A Toast to Time

by sageness



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon - Comics, Canon - TV, F/M, Holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-23
Updated: 2004-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/pseuds/sageness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Aelora's <a href="http://aelora.livejournal.com/tag/fic:+hudsonverse">Hudson Kent</a> universe, the Kryptonian baby who landed in the Kansas cornfield was always female; the Kents named her "Hudson" after Martha's maiden name in comics canon.  She and Lex became involved and then later split.  This story is set well after their breakup.</p><p>For Old Lang Syne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Toast to Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aelora's Smallville Holiday Carol Challenge. The prompt: "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg.
> 
> We drank a toast to innocence,  
> We drank a toast to now.  
> And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,  
> But neither one knew how.  
> We drank a toast to innocence,  
> We drank a toast to time.  
> Reliving in our eloquence,  
> Another 'auld lang syne'.

It was routine. Holiday parties back in Washington. Christmas at the Kennedy Center. The holiday party at LexCorp. The Lex Luthor Coalition Holiday Bash, which was inane, but full of fundraising opportunities and could not be ignored.

Superwoman lighting the tree at the Kennedy Center. Superwoman appearing with a Santa hat and an improbably large bag of toys, and then lighting the tree at Children's Hospital. Superwoman attending the Firefighter's Ball and filming public service announcements about Christmas tree safety. Same thing every year.

Occasionally he'd catch a glimpse of a rather harried-looking Hudson Kent at these things, trying to get a statement from tipsy House Representatives or a lead on a story from an executive at an international pharmaceutical conglomerate. She was a good reporter. Tough. Tenacious.

He missed her.

He saw Superwoman as a matter of course. She'd spent the greater part of the last several years trying to put him in prison. It wasn't personal, though.

Which was one of the biggest lies there was between them. She took the matter of his ethics as seriously as she took her own; otherwise she would never have chosen either of her careers. Hudson Kent, investigative reporter, lived for using the press to make the world a better place. Superwoman...

If he didn't know better, he might think she got off on tormenting him. Maybe in a shallow way, she did sometimes. Lord knew he'd given her reason enough over the years. But on the whole, she was motivated by what she perceived as the greater good. He could acknowledge that. It was just a shame the law so often got in the way of progress and expediency.

* * *

"Ms. Kent, you will be removed from the premises if you continue to pester me!" The US Ambassador to Ghana was home for the holidays, Lex noted. Hudson had hounded him through the French doors, out onto the semi-enclosed terrace that served double duty as a smoking lounge. A number of portable heaters were scattered about, surrounded by benches and patio furniture. Everything was strung with icicle lights, garland, and red velvet bows.

"Sir, I know it's Christmas," she protested, "and I really don't want to bother you, but couldn't you just help me clear up the conflicting reports of what GlaxoSmithKline and Pfizer are getting from our government in return for supplying sub-Saharan Africa with—"

"No," the man said, cutting her off. He turned away, cutting past Lex, and reentered the ballroom. Hudson took two steps and stopped, blinking at Lex in surprise. She flushed, and he noticed how lovely she looked, her cheeks pink with cold, her breath a foggy gust before her lips.

"Hi," he said, because he had to say something.

She looked around, saw that apart from the cluster of people drinking at the other end, they were virtually alone, except for Mercy standing over in the far corner. Hudson let her guard down, visibly beginning to relax. "Hi, Lex."

"So he wouldn't even go for off the record?"

She snorted softly and ran a hand through her hair. "I didn't really need him to. He fed me some bad information, so I felt like ruining his night."

Lex smiled and bit his tongue. He wasn't going to say better him than me, but he could see in her eyes that she could see him thinking it. "Care to join me?" he asked, gesturing at the empty chairs gathered around.

She scanned the terrace again, a little uncertain. He wasn't sure if she were looking for threats or looking for an excuse to leave. Probably both, although she didnt need an excuse. He kept his eyes on her, expectant, and probably more hopeful than he really cared to admit. But then, she knew him. No one knew him like she did. And sometimes he didn't really mind that she could see right through him.

"Come on, H.C.," he said, patting the cushioned bench, "it's the holidays."

She shook her head, breaking into a smile. "You're impossible," she answered, but she sat down next to him and rubbed her hands together over the heater.

"You look good," he said, and instantly regretted it. He knew she hated talk about her looks and he didn't want her to feel any more self conscious than she already was. Or to zip off, change her clothes, and take him to the nearest FBI field office. "You seem like you're doing well, I mean."

She smirked and said, "Thanks," but something in her tone called out to him.

"You okay?"

And now she did let out a rueful laugh. "I'm weirded out, Lex. What am I supposed to say to you? After all this time of being at each other's throats, here we are out on a freezing balcony when everyone else is inside in the warm, happy—"

"Inane, gold-digging, sycophantic, soi-disant 'event', and we're—"

"Out in the cold?"

He shrugged. "We never did fit in with the crowd."

She let out a long breath. "You're right about that. So how are you?" she asked, brightening.

He smiled. "Not bad. Coping with the perils of running for public office. Things could be worse. You?"

The cloud over her face was back. "Harried. People go nuts this time of year. Lois is too young to understand split custody and visitation. All she cares about is Santa, and I feel bad that I don't get to spend enough time with her, but it's best this way. It's the only way. But at least I got all my shopping done!"

Lex took her hand and squeezed. It still fit just as well as it ever had. She didn't pull it away. "How are your parents?" he asked after a moment.

"Fine. They're starting to get old, though, and it's the oddest thing. Dad can't do near as much as he used to. Helping was...it's just weird."

"I can imagine."

Lex saw Mercy shift out of the corner of his eye. A moment later a tuxedoed attendant approached with a steaming decanter of mulled wine and two glasses. They watched as he poured, without asking, and set everything on the table next to the heater. "Enjoy," he said, and disappeared.

Hudson was shaking her head again, resignation and amusement fighting on her face. "You didn't arrange this, did you?"

"No, but I'd like to thank whoever did." That got her grinning. It was good, comfortable. It was good to see her again, and he said so. The mix of doubt and amusement was still playing on her face, but comfort was winning. They had a night sky, a carafe of wine, a warm heater, and each other. It was good.

Soon she was catching him up on her parents and what had changed at the farm over the last few years and bitching about her ex-husband, Perry's newsroom, and how hard it was to keep her day job when she had to zip off at the drop of a hat. It was nice.

He told her how stressful it was to balance the campaigning, the fundraising, LexCorp, his research—"Your plans to take over the world," she inserted in an exaggerated, mockingly awestruck voice that made him laugh—and his private life. Not that he had much of a private life anymore.

He'd planned to leave an hour ago. He'd only come out into the cold to escape a bevy of heiresses dressed in little more than a scrim of silk. He had no patience for the Bruce Wayne lifestyle. Why settle for a night of vapidity when you could havethis. Except—

The wine must've gone to his head. She was still Superwoman. She was still his nemesis and would still haul him off to jail if she could. Except that she hadn't done it yet. And the look in her eyes right now. It spoke of a longing he hadn't seen there in... How could he ever have screwed this up so badly?

The kiss was warm, wet, full of spiced wine and the taste of her, the taste that years ago he'd come to think of as manifest sunlight. Hudson.

He opened his eyes as their lips parted. She was feeling it, too. And thenher eyes focused hard on something in the middle distance, and she...listened. A moment later, her attention was back on him, but at the same time...not. "I have to go," she said, and her voice was just short of professional.

"I understand," he answered. "Angel, before you go, I want you to know...I do miss you."

She nodded, swallowing, and he could see her working to push the emotion back down. "I'm sorry."

He took her hand and kissed it. "Me, too."

She met his eyes once more and stood up. "Happy Holidays, Lex."

"You, too, Hudson. Take care."

And then she was gone.


End file.
